


Light in the Dark

by LotusApogee



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dreams and Nightmares, Eventual Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-30 08:12:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12649623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LotusApogee/pseuds/LotusApogee
Summary: This is a story snippet that I would like to attach to other snippets I've been working on eventually which center around my Inquisitor, Mara Trevelyan and her relationships with her companions, especially Cullen. I wanted to tell a story that fleshed out how my head canon character would deal with what's happening to her in the game and, since I really enjoyed the in-game Cullen romance, a deeper story told of their relationship. First story posed for public consumption, so constructive criticism is appreciated. Please enjoy.





	Light in the Dark

To the passive observer, it would seem Mara Trevelyan, the newly named Herald of Andraste, would seem to be sleeping deeply and peacefully in her bed, fire still burning in the hearth as a watchful guard over her. The light reflected off her light skin and dark, wavy hair. It danced over her features, softening the angles of her jaw and blending her light freckles and slightly sunburned cheeks into a warm glow. However appearances can be deceiving. Her forehead and neck were moist with sweat and her eyelids twitched as a faint expression of distress flowed into her features. Her hand reflexively gripped her blankets as her head twisted away the fire, her body tensing, reacting to stress. 

A sharp intake of breath and Mara abruptly awoke, her heart seeming to pound in her ears. She could still see the armored warriors rushing at her, the flaming sword symbol on their huge, steel shields. Her leg instinctively jolted, remembering how, as she was backing up to flee in fear, she had fallen over the body of a woman. On the ground in the dream she had looked around her and been shocked to see more bodies; men, women, children, all dead, their blood soaking the ground, warm under her palms. She had screamed in helpless horror and fear, her hand uselessly sparking and getting ground into the bloody mud. 

In her cabin, Mara put her feet on the floor and let her head fall into her hands, elbows propped on her knees. Her skin prickled even though the air was warm from the fire. It had been a handful of weeks since she had fallen out of the Fade with a foreign and encroaching magical mark on her hand, been accused of perpetrating an act of pure destruction at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, closed a massive otherworldly tear in the sky, then woke up to be called some kind of hero, their Herald of Andraste. Before this she had not seen death and chaos on such a large scale. She had never wielded such a powerful weapon, nor felt the weight of such responsibility. 

It was too much. To the people around her, she was sometimes sarcastic, sometimes direct and sometimes quiet and reserved, but always able to take on what came at her. Mara knew the truth, something she did not want anyone to see, even those of her companions that were becoming friends. Especially those considered friend. She winced to think of telling Cassandra how afraid she felt much of the time, how she felt she was always walking on the edge of a cliff, just waiting for a gust of wind to blow her off the mountain. She thought of the disappointment and disgust that would be there, the realization that Mara was not who she was supposed to be and of no use to anyone. 

Maybe that was how it should be. They had some people at Haven who were very knowledgeable, Mara was sure they could find someone to remove the mark, couldn’t they? Solas could probably figure it out and then they would take that painful, spitting green anathema away, along with the title and responsibility and give it to someone who is worthy, someone who could really be a savior for people. She could leave, go back to the Free Marches and continue to carry the legacy of House Trevelyan, a path her parents always had planned for her. 

Mara had never challenged that guidance. She had never really enjoyed politics or estate management or any of the other social obligations that came with being noble. The benefits, such as fine clothing, servants, social station were pleasant, but not that important to Mara. She often felt like a fallen leaf in autumn, simply floating on the air currents of her circumstance. She had never really happy, not since her brother had died, but she thought simply not being unhappy was good enough. Now she was feeling many things, none of which were unhappiness. 

Frustrated with the conflicting thoughts and still trying to quiet the images from her dream, she roughly pushed herself to her feet, put on some warm clothes and her thick, wool cloak in a rich lapis blue color hanging on a hook by the door. Of all the things she had been given since she had become Herald of Andraste, the cloak was her favorite. It was long, the hem only just above the ground, with a voluminous hood and the only ornamentation a finely crafted silver clasp at the collar, vines intertwining around a diamond shape. A woman from the Hinterlands had sent it to her. She had written a short note, thanking Mara for saving her family from the Templars and Mages running amok and saying the cloak was plain, but she hoped the Herald would accept it as a token of her and her family’s gratitude anyway. Mara was touched and told no one how much it meant to her, but she wore it whenever she had the opportunity. She loved it because of its simplicity, its quality and how it reminded her that she has actually make a difference in lives. She had helped people. 

Mara stepped out of her door onto the cold earth and thin layer of snow that must have fallen a little while ago. Haven was quiet, no voices speaking of trade, no faint clang of metal on metal from the smithy. No people to whisper in hushed tones to each other about the Herald of Andraste. Sometimes walking about Haven she wished she could wear her cloak about her and no one would recognize her or see her as unimportant enough to commiserate about. She pulled the cloak close about her body and peered out of the deep hood as she made her way slowly and silently toward the large wood and iron gate, out toward the frozen lake. 

She hadn’t often gotten a good chance to appreciate the beauty of her surroundings since she arrived here, but there were a few times and this, at night, was the most stunning sight yet. The moon was waxing and would be at full face in a week or so, but it still shone clear and bright, illuminating the snow and making it sparkle. Mara walked past the soldier tents, a cook fire burning, one soldier facing his palms toward it for warmth, another facing west, on watch. All the tents were dark, except for one; Commander Cullen’s. She knew he possessed a great work ethic and took his job very seriously, but seeing how hard he worked during the day, she was surprised he was still awake at this late hour. She smiled faintly, remembering their exchange about a week after she came awake at Haven and the Inquisition had been formed, after she had closed the Breach at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. He had started talking about what good the Inquisition could do and then said she probably didn’t come for a lecture. She had said she wouldn’t mind hearing one anyway and smiled. She found herself relaxed around him and able to smile, genuinely for the first time in what felt like months. He was confident, disciplined and interested in taking action, protecting those who needed it. It also didn’t hurt that he was handsome. The nobles back home would not think so much of him, scruff on his cheeks and scar running through his lip. Mara thought his look pleasing; it suited a man who had more important things to do than fuss over his appearance. He was busy doing good, making change. Even his black and red fur pauldron spoke of utility, strength and authority. She did think it was a little dramatic to wear it everywhere, along with his full armor, but she supposed that is what was expected of a Commander of the Inquisition. She had overheard Liliana laugh with Josephine about how sometimes the fur looked like a tiny mangy bear had died on the Commander’s shoulders. Mara couldn’t help but chuckle to herself, thinking, it wasn’t all that mangy. Just a little, when it got wet from heavy snow. 

Mara passed the tents and walked to the edge of the lake where the earth ended in a rocky drop down about 10 feet to the ice and sat on the ground. She crossed her legs under her and spread the cloak over her legs and feet, creating a woolen cocoon for herself, only able to see the striking view right in front of her. She sat for a few minutes, silent, trying to soak in the peace and serenity before her, trying to become part of it, just for a short while. She heard the sound of boots crunching through the snow toward her. Annoyed at the interruption, she turned to her right, pulling the hood so she could get a better look at who was awake and bothering her at this time of night. It was Commander Cullen. 

“Herald? Is that you?” He asked with a curious tone. 

“Yes. I came out for the view. I…couldn’t sleep.” She turned back to the moon and the lake. 

He came and sat down next to her. She was surprised. He seemed so formal usually, somehow she didn’t expect him to just sit down in the snow. But no one would probably think a noble would just plunk down on the ground either, in the middle of the night. She turned her head toward him, observing he wasn’t wearing his full armor, but pants, boots, a tunic and dark cloak. He sat with his knees up, hands clasped together so his arms encircled them, his face peering out on the scene in front of them, face and blonde hair reflecting the moon’s light. She could see a small smile form as he admired the scene. 

“What are you doing up at this hour, Commander?” she asked. 

“I should ask you the same thing. You just got back from the Hinterlands, you must be exhausted.” he responded. 

Mara let a short puff of laughter escape. “Oh, I am exhausted. I just…” she trailed off. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him turn his head toward her. 

“Yes?” he prodded. She shook her head once, slightly and to herself, chagrined that she had started down this road. She felt a powerful instinct to keep emotions that made her feel vulnerable under her skin, but it was very late and she was frazzled. The night eroded her inhibitions. She sighed heavily and words tumbled out. 

“I can’t dream anymore, not tonight. I keep seeing them, dead people. People I cannot help. All I seem to be able to do is run away in terror from Templars!” An image of her dead brother flashed before her, blood and ash smeared his face and she dropped her head as the words ran out. Her eyes welled up and she bit her lip to ward them back. After a few moments of silence she said, “Those are not the brave, heroic things a Herald of Andraste says, I know. You probably think I am an awful coward and I wouldn’t blame you.” She was silent then and the chill night air seemed to swallow up her words, spreading a quiet calm again like a blanket. 

She was sure he was thinking what a horrible mistake they had made and would get up to tell Cassandra and Leliana that they had chosen their champion poorly. Despite her cynical expectations, he remained motionless and she could sense the pause in the air as he chose his words. 

“I don’t think you are a coward and I certainly don’t think you’re awful.” He trailed off a bit self-consciously. “I have read the reports, Herald.” He said soberly. “What the rogue Templars and Mages are doing to each other and the people is horrific. You are no soldier and it cannot be expected of you to be…jaded about violence. It does not surprise me that you are, er, that you are having difficulty with this situation.” 

Mara, was somewhat comforted by his words, but she knew he didn’t know the whole story. She told no one of the circumstances of her brother’s death, nevermind the impact it had on her. 

“Asking the Maker for guidance has often helped me in…times of need.” Cullen offered gently. 

His words were a sharp reminder of what she both mourned for and felt relieved to be rid of. What shone in her voice though, was contempt. “Oh, yes, Andraste and the Maker will surely be able to make it all better. As if that has ever worked before…” She spat, half to herself, with bitterness. “I’m sure the only reason I’ve survived this demented adventure so far is so the Maker can laugh as I fail later.” It was a sharp whip of words, and she was almost immediately sorry for them. Mara glanced at Cullen. Even from her viewpoint in the dark, she could see he turned his face away from her and his jaw worked. 

“Oh, I am sorry Commander. That was unworthy of me to say. I should not mock you.” She looked ahead and her face hardened. “I simply do not place faith in the Maker anymore.” 

A moment passed until he spoke. “You do not believe in the Maker? The Herald of Andraste?” 

“Commander, do you think…” Mara sighed and winced in an attempt to temper her immediate response. “I did not ask for this role. Others have placed me in it. I am doing the best I can, truly, but if I had a choice at the beginning, I would not be here.” 

“Where would you be?” He sounded caught between curiosity and indignation. 

“I would be in the Free Marches. I would be home. I would be…” still empty “…not carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.” 

“I understand.” Cullen said. Mara looked uncertainly at him from under her hood. This was not what she expected. He continued, “Sometimes we find ourselves in a place we could not predict and would not choose. Yet the reality does not change. We must find strength to continue where we can.” 

The way he spoke and the emotion folded into his voice took her attention away from her own troubles. Mara noticed he had a faraway look as if remembering. Without noticing her own movement, she swiveled towards him. “Can I ask…what happened to you?” His head turned suddenly toward her, as if he forgot she was there. 

“No, I…” he started by rote and cleared his throat and started again slowly. “Years ago in the Templar Order, there were difficult times. I am not proud of everything I did.” He hesitated, then finished, “I do not like to think of those times.” 

Mara realized that was all he was prepared to say in that moment, but she found herself wanting to know more about the Inquisition Commander. It was not simple curiosity, but also she had the impulse to relieve some of the weight from the man’s shoulders. He seemed like a good man. She did not think he deserved the pain he seemed to carry. 

“I am sorry.” She said with sincerity. “You would be a far better Herald than I. You are good and strong. I can tell you want to help people. You have the bravery that is needed.” 

“Herald, you were chosen for a reason. You can-“ 

She cut him off, emotion suddenly bubbling up. “I am afraid, Cullen! All the time! I’m trying to hold together, but can feel I am losing ground.” She finished in despair. Mara pulled her cloak closer around her and her last few words hung lonely in the air. 

Unexpectedly, she felt a steady hand, warm and solid on her shoulder. “Everyone is afraid, Herald. This trouble we are facing, it is only natural to have fear.” She let out a ragged breath that had built up with her admission. “Please, call me by my name. Herald reminds me of the person I am falling short of living up to.” Mara requested as she desperately tried to rein her emotions in and draw back the tears flooding her eyes. 

“Very well. But in public, you should be addressed in a manner that shows respect and I will honor that…Mara” His earnest nobility cut through the heaviness and she smiled despite her mood. 

“As you will. May I call you Cullen?” His face reflected surprise. He was not entirely comfortable with the lack of formality, but he nodded once and replied. ”If you would like.” The silence stretched out, Mara’s lightheartedness fled to leave her soaking sullenness. 

After a little while Cullen’s voice cut through the thick silence. “I have seen much, more death and destruction than anyone should and it has left me changed. I am here to do good, to help the people who need it and to put things right. I will not be put off my course, but that doesn’t mean there is no fear. Being a Templar has taught me how to master fear and hold fast doubt, turning those things to my advantage.” 

He turned his face toward her again, with an intensity she had never seen before directed at her. “You are more courageous than you think. You want to do good for others, I can see it. You willingly put yourself out in the world to fight for the people who are caught up in events they cannot prevent or escape. You see the madness around us and you face it all the same, even though you are afraid. That is courage. You recognize the inhumanity and are repulsed. What you do is not easy and it is not for the faint of heart. It is admirable.” 

She turned her face him, drawn in by the passion in his words. “That is kind of you to say.” His eyes held hers for a long moment, until Mara felt too uncomfortable and had to look away. She let out a little laugh and said, “Don’t worry, I’m not about to throw myself off the side of a mountain. I’m not hopeless. Besides, I might as well stick around to see how many more nice things you’ll say to me.” She teased lightly, trying to turn the serious mood. 

His fervent demeanor was replaced by self-conscious awkwardness. “Well, I, uh…you have many admirable qualities. You would not be the Herald if you didn’t.” 

“Oh, yes, that’s right, Andraste hand-picked me herself to represent her and save the world.” Mara said sarcastically, but smiled. 

Cullen stayed silent and she hoped she hadn’t offended him again with her own lack of tact. For some reason his opinion was important to her, so she let go of the sarcasm and thought for a minute before she spoke again. 

“There does seem to be a…rhythm to things. I suppose it makes sense that the Maker could be the force behind those things. And if the Maker is real, then why not Andraste? I just don’t know if they are without fault. Maybe Andraste thought she saw something in me but was mistaken? Maybe I was just in the right place at the right time. I wish I could simply speak with her. That might clear up a few things.” 

Cullen’s face seemed to relax a little, then he glanced down at her cloak and his brow drew together with some concern. “You are shivering. We should go warm ourselves by the fire.” Suddenly Mara realized he was right, she was very cold. The cloak was warm, but not an impenetrable barrier after as long as she had spent out here. She started to rise, somewhat unsteadily, trying not to become tangled in the voluminous fabric. Cullen stood and offered his hand. After a pause, she took it gratefully. She leaned on his hand more than was polite, she was sure, but it looked easy for him, as if she was a small bird, and he deftly helped her to her feet. He certainly was strong and she found her thoughts dancing around the curiosity of how easy it would be for him to lift her fully off the ground. She was only a few inches shorter than he, although she was thinner than she had been when this whole Breach disaster began. All the same she imagined his warm, steady hands grip her waist and lift her up… Abruptly she tripped on the hem of her cloak as she took a step, but Cullen was still touching her hand, fingertips just about to part. When she stumbled his grip returned and his other hand came behind her, holding her waist to steady her. She felt a blush on her cheeks at his touch and, glad for the darkness, tried to regain her composure. 

“Really graceful, aren’t I?” She laughed self-consciously. 

Cullen chuckled, “Very much so, Hera…I mean, Mara.” He let go of her when she was steady and she was a little disappointed to feel his warmth leave her. They walked with slow measured steps toward the cook fire by the tents. 

“So, you never said why you are still awake.” Mara said. 

“Oh, I had been working on reports. Then I got caught up in a book of tactics, Draynon’s Way. I bought it from a trader that had been by a couple of weeks ago. I don’t often have access to books, especially ones related to the battlefield. I’m not interested in the stories Varric writes, so I’m often out of luck for reading material.” 

Mara laughed easily. “I don’t even know if Varric would read what Varric writes, so I can understand. It seems you work more than anyone else I’ve seen here, Cullen.” He shook his head slightly and with a wry expression commented, “Unfortunately the job doesn’t sleep as much as I wish I did.” 

They continued to the fire and stood on either side, palms held out, absorbing the heat. They were there for a little while, in a comfortable silence, the orange and yellow glow playing over their faces. Mara felt more relaxed than she had, well, in some time, she had to admit, and a wash of drowsiness came over her. “Oh, I think I will try to sleep now. This fire has done wonders. As has the company.” She smiled at Cullen over the flames and he grinned back, looking only a little shy. She glanced toward one of the guards and back to his gaze saying, “Good evening, Commander.” She wanted to make sure Cullen saw that his public standard for address were respected and being followed. 

“Herald.” He inclined his head courteously. “May I have you escorted back to your cabin?” She glanced at the guard again and then back at Cullen with a little upturn of the corner of her lips. 

“No, no escort is necessary. I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some sleep. The Herald can’t have her Commander nodding off at a strategy meeting.” The upturn blossomed into a full smile as she turned toward the path leading back inside the gate. 

As she turned to slip between the two massive wooden doors into the town proper she turned to look at him. He was smiling to himself and rubbing the back of his neck in that way he did sometimes did. It seemed he enjoyed her company too. The thought caused a smile of her own rise unbidden. She paused, watching him turn toward his tent and lift the flaps, disappearing inside. The smile stayed on her face the whole way back to her own bed.


End file.
